That regrettable
question concluded the monologue of our guest, to which we had assisted in
religious silence but with long live share.
While evoking
his memoirs, that I imagined remote for forgetful time in his mind; above all
speaking of his mother, in his voice a veiled tone of emotion had appeared.
And I don't know
if I really perceived a mist in his eyes, ‘cause it lasted only for a bit: after pouring a glass
of water and drinking it with avarice, he fleetingly passed a candid napkin on
his face, with which he suddenly cancelled any trace of it. Then he stayed
immovably, absorbed in his sad memoirs, or perhaps picking up ideas to continue
his story. George had followed him for the whole time with the chin
supported by the closed fists on the
edge of the table. Without proffering a word he lit a cigarette and soon after
pushed the packet to me. With peaceful and indifferent tone, Mr Winningoes took
back on his speech.
-“The same day I
knew by my teacher that I was the only heir of my mother’s estates, and that
since the day of her death, he had been its honest and prudent administrator,
as he would show to me in his detailed account.
That man, I had
so much hated and blamed, now that his ungrateful charge had come to end,
seemed to me good and comprehensive, and his words calmed for a few time my
incurable pain. By now, however, I had also to think about my life, and in
those places I would never succeeded in shaking off my sad past. I begged the reverend to continue
to administer my goods and I departed, to the discovery of the world.
2. to be continued...If you want to read more of this please go through the link: https://kdp.amazon.com/self-publishing/edit-book/one?digitalItemId
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